


A Makeshift Christmas

by foxiea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Homesickness, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22077088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxiea/pseuds/foxiea
Summary: Celebrating the holidays in the far reaches of space sounds much cooler than it actually is, especially when Lance wants nothing more than to be back on Earth with his family.Pidge might be a genius, but even she can't perform miracles. Still, that won't stop her from trying her best to make Lance feel at home.
Relationships: Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt, Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	A Makeshift Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This short story was written for Season's Greetings, a winter holidays themed Voltron zine.

Lance knocks back another glass of nunvill, shuddering as the bitter liquid slides down his throat. He isn’t sure why he thought this glass might taste any better than the last two. Festive music blares around him, and the castle ship’s main hall is filled with bright decorations, but the cheery atmosphere serves only to worsen Lance’s sour mood. He swirls the the last drops of nunvill in the cup and considers another glass – if only to have something to do – but decides against it. Hunk flashes him a grin from across the room where he’s dancing with Shay, and Lance forces himself to smile back. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but Hunk doesn’t seem to notice,his attention back on Shay as he teaches her what looks like a waltz.

Allura is on the dance floor too, twirling in the arms of an alien diplomat and laughing. There’s a flush high on her cheeks, and she’s positively glowing. It makes sense; the party is in celebration of an old Altean holiday after all, and Allura is in her element as a hostess. If the celebration didn’t remind Lance so much of Christmas time spent with his family, he might have asked her for a dance. In such a good mood, she’d surely humour him, and Lance has some good Christmas-themed pick up lines. As things stand, though, he’s in no mood for dancing  _ or  _ flirting.

To Lance’s side, Coran is chatting animatedly with another diplomat. He’d tried to include Lance in the conversation, but the only responses Lance could muster up were vague grunts, and before long they’d turned away from him.

Even Keith seems to be having a good time. Keith! He and Shiro are perched near an artificial fireplace, toasting something that looks and smells an awful lot like marshmallows. Shiro’s gaze is soft as he looks at Keith, a fond smile playing on his lips, and Lance feels a pang of jealousy. No matter how much Shiro insists otherwise, Keith has always been his favourite. No matter how much Lance tries to impress Shiro, he’ll never look at Lance the way he does Keith.

Shiro glances across the room, his eyes meeting Lance’s, and for a moment, Lance feels like his thoughts have been laid bare. He quickly looks back to the dance floor, spotting Matt stealing Allura away from her previous dance partner. He expected Pidge to be by her brother’s side, but she’s curiously absent. Come to think of it, he hasn’t seen her all night. Maybe she had the right idea and decided to skip the party all together. Lance should have done the same.

He glances around the room once more, at everyone having fun without him, then back at the cup of nunvill in his hand. There’s nothing for him at this party. No one will care if he leaves.

Lance looks back over his shoulder one last time, half-hoping someone might be coming after him, might care enough to notice he's leaving. He turns back to the door with a sigh, stepping out of the hall, when a small body collides with him.

“Ow!” Pidge bounces back off Lance's chest, rubbing her forehead. She's still dressed in her plain old everyday clothes; no wonder she wasn't at the party.

“Lance,” she blinks up at him in surprise. “Hey. Are you busy right now? I, uh, wanted to show you something.”

Great. When Pidge wants to show something off, it's usually some genius new invention that comes with a wordy explanation Lance isn't sure he'd understand even if it was in Spanish. In English, she's lost him by the third word. “I'm not really in the mood, Pidge.

“Oh,” she says, her face crumpling. “Okay then.” She turns on her heel, her shoulders slumped, and guilt immediately bubbles up in Lance's stomach. Only moments ago he wanted someone to notice him, and here he is turning Pidge away. Even if she does just want to babble about some techno-whatsit, that's still better than being alone, right?

She's almost turned the corner by the time he makes his mind up, and he has to sprint to catch up. “Hey Pidge, wait up,” he calls after her. She turns around, dejection still clear on her face. “What is it you wanna show me?”

Her eyes light up at that, the corners of her mouth curving upward. “It's a surprise.” She grabs his wrist, pulling him into a run alongside her. “Come on!”

Pidge leads him further and further from the main hall, until finally they arrive at the door to the holodeck. “You first.” The doors slide open as he takes a step closer.

Lance enters the holodeck to the sight of a crisp December snowfall, with Pidge hovering at his side. His jaw drops. Towards the back of the room he sees Kaltenecker, dressed in a santa hat and chewing contemplatively on the snow-topped grass. Tentatively, Lance holds out a hand, and startles at the feeling of cool snowflakes settling there. His foul mood evaporates in an instant.

“I know it’s not rain,” Pidge starts, adjusting the brim of her glasses, “but I thought snow was more appropriate for New Years. Though it  _ is _ Altean New Years, but their rain isn’t really-”

“Pidge.” The moment she turns to look up at him, Lance pulls her into a hug, lifting her up so her feet are dangling off the ground. Warmth fills his chest as his lips part into a wide grin. “It’s perfect.” 

Pidge is still for a moment before she wraps her arms around his back and returns his embrace. “I’m glad you like it.”

When he puts her down, there’s a pale pink flush across her cheeks. Lance glances around the room and finds himself wondering how long it took Pidge to put this all together. How long she spent working away in this empty - aside from Kaltenecker - room just for him, when she could have been spending time with her brother instead.

The echoes of music drift down from the main hall. Lance looks back at Pidge, at the pink of her cheeks and the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. He offers her his hand, and she looks up at him curiously.

“May I have this dance?” He asks, flashing her a brilliant smile.

Pidge glances down at herself, frowning. “I'm not really-”

“What does it matter?” Lance asks. “It's just the two of us.” She considers for a moment, then accepts his hand. 

The music from the hall is a slow melody. Time seems to melt away as they sway lazily, the distance between their bodies growing smaller with each moment that passes until Pidge’s head ends up resting against his chest, his arms loosely dropped around her waist. It feels nice, having someone so close. Having Pidge so close. And judging from the contented smile on her face, she must like how it feels too.

Eventually, the music comes to a stop, and they separate, mumbling excuses under their breaths. Lance fishes in his pocket for something before pulling it out with a triumphant grin. He holds his hand above their heads, the trinket dangling down above them. Pidge gazes up at it, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Well would you look at that,” Lance says, feigning surprise. “Mistletoe.”

Pidge frowns. “I’m pretty sure that’s not-”

Lance groans. “Pidge, do you want to be right, or do you want to kiss me?”

He watches her eyes widen in realisation, a pink flush darkening her cheeks. “I…” She trails off and averts her eyes, but she doesn’t step away.

Lance lifts his hand to her cheek, gently nudging her face up. He leans down to meet her, stopping just a breath away from her lips. He searches her eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation, any indication he should stop. Up close, he can smell the clove-and-cinnamon scent of her perfume. 

“Lance.” He savours the low, breathy sound of his name on her lips. “Kiss me.”

Lance doesn’t wait to be told twice. He closes the gap between them, circling his arms around Pidge’s waist as their lips meet. Pidge’s lips are feather-soft. A hint of peppermint lingers on her breath.

The kiss ends far too soon, each of them pulling away to look at the other with hopeful eyes and flushed cheeks.

Lance speaks in a whisper, afraid too loud a sound might shatter the magic of the moment. “You know Pidge, I'm not sure how I can repay you for all this.”

Pidge’s lips quirk up in a mischievous grin. “Oh, I can think of a few ways.” She her fingers in his shirt, pulling him closer, and Lance's heart skips a beat. “Kiss me again.”

“With pleasure,” Lance replies, as smooth as he can manage when Pidge has him - rather literally - wrapped around her finger. 

As their lips slot together, Lance starts to think Altean Christmas might not be so bad after all.


End file.
